On the Sheer Face of Love
by isawrightless
Summary: "I love you. And I'm not trying to corner you again or make this more uncomfortable, I'm just saying it now that I'm sober. It wasn't the alcohol, Sweetheart."


**I.**

It starts out with a simple glass of wine.

She doesn't drink because of a migraine she had earlier. The ache left her in bed for most of the day, and she doesn't want to risk getting another one. He drinks because he's had a rough day and he needs to calm his nerves. She watches, wearing sweatpants and an old tank top with a little hole on the back, completely hidden by her hair. He, however, is uncomfortable in his dress pants and black shirt.

The first glass doesn't help.

He pours more wine.

She switches the channel to a cooking show.

**II.**

His cheeks are red and she thinks he looks adorable.

There is an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table.

"You're crashing here," she tells him. "There's no way I'm letting you go out like this."

He smiles at her and holds her hand.

He's drunk and hazy and tired.

"Thank you."

**III.**

"Claire?"

"Yeah?" she yells from the kitchen.

"You making coffee?"

"Yup."

"Is it black?"

"No, it's green."

"…You serious?"

She giggles.

**IV.**

He confesses around midnight. They're talking about politics. There's a pause, and he says, "I want to kiss you."

He says it like it's the most natural thing in the world.

It is.

But her heart gets caught up in her throat and she coughs.

"What?"

"I want to kiss you," he repeats, looking at her. "I always want to kiss you."

She shakes her head, scoffs. "You're drunk."

"So?"

"So?"

"Yeah, so? I'm drunk, that takes away my credibility?"

"Well, yes."

She's shaking.

"I'm not lying."

"Leon…"

He straightens his posture, wishes he had gathered the courage to tell her all of this while he was still sober. "Sometimes that's all I can think about, Claire. That I want to kiss you and be with you. Do you know how exhausting that is? Because you're my best friend, I've known you since I was twenty-one, I'm thirty-three now—"

"Thirty-four," Claire corrects him, almost automatically.

"Thirty-four, and I've known you since 1998 and you're my best friend, the one constant thing in my life, you know, I mean, look at all the shit we've been through and I can't risk losing you and your friendship, but I fell in love with you, and I'm sorry for that, I really am, I wish I hadn't…"

She can't breathe. She can't say a word. She simply observes, her heart beating so fast and loud she wouldn't be surprised if people out on the streets could hear it.

"Claire…"

"I…what?"

"I love you."

"You're drunk."

"But I love you."

"You're drunk!"

"That doesn't mean anything! I love you," he moves closer, she can't run. The couch is small and she's frozen in her place anyway.

Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

"Claire…"

She builds up the courage and says, "I think…I think you need to sleep. I need to sleep, too. I'll bring you a…a…a blanket, ok?"

She goes away, climbs the stairs and stays in her bedroom for a few minutes. She tries not to cry, and does her best to stop all the trembling. She can't feel her legs. She's sweating cold and she needs to breathe through her mouth.

**V.**

He's asleep on the couch.

She covers him with a blanket. She gets too close, and her eyes dart down to his lips. They're cracked and dry.

She makes her way upstairs, and tries to sleep, but his words keep ringing in her ears the entire time, turning all the wheels in her head.

**VI.  
**She doesn't expect to find him in the morning.

There's toothpaste on her tank top from when she brushed her teeth and didn't pay much attention to anything, and she's pretty sure she went to bed wearing socks but now she's barefoot. Her hair is a complete mess and she doesn't even consider brushing it.

She goes downstairs and is greeted by the smell of coffee and Leon's awkward smile.

"Hey," he says, standing near the staircase, close to the kitchen. "I made coffee. And I went out and brought some bread for breakfast."

"You did?" she asks, trying to figure out whether he remembered anything about last night.

"Yeah," he starts, scratching his forehead. "I woke up and my head was killing me, so I took the last couple of painkillers you had. I know you get migraines, so I went out and bought you some Aspirin and on the way back, I stopped at the bakery. Hope you don't mind."

She shakes her head. "No, no…that was sweet, actually. Thank you."

He grins. "Well, I guess I should go."

"Stay. You always stay for breakfast."

He stays and during breakfast, when Claire gets a moustache made of milk, and Leon burns his toast, it seems like there's nothing wrong between them.

**VII.**

They don't talk about last night. At least not until he says he needs to get going, get back to his apartment and change his clothes, get to work.

They're at the door, and she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and maybe what makes him want to explain himself is the way she looks at him.

"Listen, about last night…I'm sorry."

She tenses all over, and holds her gaze on him, unable to move.

"Nah, don't worry."

"No, I…I shouldn't have behaved that way, and I shouldn't have cornered you like that—"

"Leon, you were drunk, I get it, alright? No need—"

"I meant every word I said."

There it is again. The shaking and her stubborn heart, beating faster and faster.

He goes on.

"I love you. And I'm not trying to corner you again or make this more uncomfortable, I'm just saying it now that I'm sober. It wasn't the alcohol, Sweetheart."

For a few seconds, nobody says a word. They stare at each other, and Leon never loses the sad smile on his face, and Claire is curling her toes, trying to say all the things that are locked up inside of her chest, but he nods and says, "I'll call you, ok? I just…hope we can forget about last night and keep being ourselves."

He's about to leave when she finds her voice again.

"It's not that I don't feel the same way," she says, her words all rushed. She can see the hope and surprise in his eyes, and that unsettles her.

It's like he rattles her.

"I'm just…Leon, what if it doesn't work? We're not exactly good at relationships, are we? And it's like you said, we've known each other for so long, we have a history, and you're my best friend too, so what if we get together and mess it up badly that not even our friendship can fix it?"

He doesn't say anything.

She keeps talking.

"Do you see us settling down? Because we can't go on about this like we don't know each other and don't care where it's going. We can't risk what we have now for a few months of fun."

She bites the inside of her cheek, tries not to look into his eyes again but it's a difficult thing to do, especially when they're so beautiful and blue. He takes a step towards her, and touches her face, caresses the soft skin and his smile is not that sad anymore.

"I can see us getting married, Claire. I can see us buying a house, adopting a dog. I can see us being parents. I can see this entire future for us...I just need to know if you can see it, too."

Her eyes are filling up with tears, but she doesn't want them to fall. She thinks it's the silliest thing to be afraid of good things, yet here she is, tempted to run away from something she's been waiting for a while now.

She nods, leans into his hand, and says, "I'm just scared."

"Of what?" he asks, moving closer, relief washing all over him, from head to toes, and he moves his hand away from her face and holds her arm.

"I don't want to build a family and then grow apart. Because that's what happens. People grow apart and then it's sad and it's like nothing even mattered..."

"People also forget that a good relationship is hard work. And we'll work on ours, Claire. If we get together, I promise, we'll do our best, alright?"

He pulls her closer, into his embrace, and he always forgets how small she is.

"I fell in love with you, too," she confesses.

He smiles.

He wants to grab her and kiss her and never let her go, but for now he's content with just holding her in his arms.

They have time, after all.


End file.
